


A Slip of the Tongue

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Beaches, Curling, F/M, Kinkmeme, Ocean Waves, curly hair, exercise, fetishes, translation errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 22:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15129281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For the kinkmeme prompt: Four/Romana, curl-fetish





	A Slip of the Tongue

The first time Romana noticed the Doctor was behaving unusually – well, everything he did was unusual, but specifically acting in a more unusual than usual fashion towards her – was when he insisted on taking her to an Earth sporting event. He bundled her up in a big fur coat, and sat eagerly at her side, pointing out the fine details of the broomwork.

To Romana it looked about as interesting as glaciers moving, and nearly as slow. She finally told the Doctor she had no interest in this 'curling,' and he pouted (he was almost attractive when he pouted – almost), and they left.

Next, the Doctor was suddenly absorbed with the maintenance of his own body. This rather made sense; he did run through his regenerations with shocking carelessness. But he asked her to exercise with him, and while she simply stepped with neat deliberate grace from calf-firmer to shoulder-buffer to torso-torquer and then back, completing the circuit of exercise machines, he insisted on just working with the same free weights, pumping up the muscles of his arms until they stood out under his skin like strange fruit.

They would be almost hot under her hands right now, she mused – and banished the thought. She declared that she was finished with her exercises and he could get back to finding the next segment of the Key to Time after he was done with his curls. And out of the corner of her eye, she watched his eyes openly examining her lines of her body as she marched out to cool off in the shower.

In the shower, as she washed, she wondered: was it possible that the Doctor had – that he was – and then she banished the thought, and scrubbed with extra intensity at those parts of her that most appreciated the attention.

Then it was an ocean planet – he insisted on stopping here, claiming that it would throw the Black Guardian "off their tracks," even though the TARDIS didn't currently have any feet and therefore didn't leave any tracks. They sat on a beach of glittering black sand, and watched the waves as they rose up and then poured themselves down, gorgeous white roils of froth that bubbled and hissed and then ran out along the sands to almost demurely kiss at their bare feet.

Suddenly, Romana thought of something. She thought of linguistic tricks, translation slippage, and the links between words and the lips that said them, and thoughts and the minds that shared them.

"Doctor," she said, her voice arch by long habit, "are you enjoying the way that the waves curl?"

"Well, yes, actually." He pushed back his hat on his head and beamed at her; there was a spot of sunburn on the tip of his nose, and she had to push aside a sudden impulse to rub lotion on it.

"And are you enjoying watching me, watching the waves curl?" She arched one dark eyebrow, fully aware of who she was and what she looked like: tall and taut in reflective silver, her hair wound in a coronet at the back of her head to show off her long neck and dark eyes.

"I, well that is," he smiled, a little gingerly, "I do like watching you. I mean, strictly as a...just as recreation..."

"And are you thinking what I am thinking?"

His mouth and eyes formed three perfect circles for a moment. "That would be very interesting, if it were true. Is it true?"

"I think," she leaned closer and ducked a little to put her face under the brim of his hat, "I think that you heard me thinking about my curl fetish."

"About your – Romana! Are you suggesting that I would somehow use knowledge of your private thoughts to my own advantage?!" His voice was scandalised, but mixed with laughter as well.

She smiled back, a slightly lopsided and sarcastic smile. "Because when I thought about my curl fetish, I wasn't thinking about sports."

"No?"

"Or exercise."

"Oh?" This in response to Romana brushing his hat off; his own loose-packed curls promptly flopped free and started to relax in the heat.

"No, and I did not mean curling waves, and I didn't mean your hair, although it is very – vital, isn't it? Like an animal's."

"No, what I meant," she leaned very close, close enough for her breath to fan over his face, "was that I love it when a man curls his tongue, just so, and lets me watch. And I love it even more when he slips his tongue between my lips, and lets it curl."

"Just so?"

"Just-" and they kissed, and the Doctor demonstrated his tongue-curling prowess to Romana's considerable interest.

Withdrawing to get her breath, she said a little hurriedly, "But that wasn't the kiss I was thinking of."

"And those weren't the lips you were referring to – is that it?"

"That's it."

"Well." He reclaimed his hat and put it on, all without unlocking his eyes from hers. They rose, still staring at each other, and then he leaned close and said, "Let's go back to the TARDIS then, and you can instruct me in the proper method of curling."

They walked down the beach, the Doctor's voice drifting off behind them. "Wouldn't want to get sand in my teeth, after all..." And then Romana clouted him on the shoulder and he took off and ran, brown coat flying, elbows pumping, scarf dragging in the wet sand, and the bright gilded figure of Romana hot at his heels, until they reached the TARDIS and closed the door.


End file.
